


Mutual Destruction

by crocodilepatronus



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Comics
Genre: M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 18:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1828437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodilepatronus/pseuds/crocodilepatronus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night drenches the city in ink and that is where they meet, in the black stained corners among the refuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutual Destruction

"The need to go astray, to be destroyed, is an extremely private,  
distant, passionate, turbulent truth."-Georges Bataille

 

The night drenches the city in ink and that is where they meet, in the black stained corners among the refuse. 

The clothes are never shed, they are their skin- what's underneath is the costume. 

Batman curls his fingers in the Joker's hair, the Joker presses his thumbs against the apple of Bruce's neck. And for a few minutes the dichotomy of good and evil collapses in on itself and the ying yang is a solid black circle. 

It was the fog that did it. The lurid, rich, darkly amethyst fog that had rolled across the city, carpeting the streets and filling the air with the scent of something organic and tantalizing, for the last two weeks. During the day, he hunted who could have engineered such a weapon and for what purpose, but at night he was its prey. 

He wants to shut his ears to the new sounds of the city in the back end of the evenings, the moans and the wonton cries that fill every alley, dripping like shrill acid from every open apartment window. 

The first night, Bruce could not have blamed himself. And he couldn't have blamed the Joker either. They were together when the streets filled with the pall of fog and it was only unnatural that they would fall into eachother's arms. 

Every night since, Bruce knew he was part of the problem. 

He sought him out, though heaven knows why. He'd wait, even as his body heated and shivered and the  _want_  became his only thought, he still searched the streets and the alleys, pushing away passerbys who clung to his shoulders spewing filthy words like vomit they couldn't choke back. Even when their fingernails dug against his skin through the fabric of his suit and their lips brushed at his exposed jaw it electrified him but only because of the images of the man that it brought up through his confused mess of scrambled thoughts. 

And they'd find eachother even though it was a different place every night. 

Like magnets their bodies led one to the other. 

One night they hadn't touched at all. It seemed they both had more focus than the civilians on the street, which was unsurprising. And they sat on a fire escape, side by side and listened to the wailing of the couple in the apartment above them. 

And each held their own cock in their hand, looking straight ahead, and stroking their palms across themselves furiously. 

"ooh. I want you. Oh, I want you so bad." The Joker imitated the woman in the apartment as she yelled, in a falsetto voice. Every few minutes he dissolved into giggling, his head bowing and his shoulders hunching and shaking with laughter. He drooled onto his hand and his cock to lubricate the process and tipped his chin back. 

"JIM! JIM! Oh, JIM!" the woman from above them screeched at the top of her lungs. 

"Batsy! BAATSY! Ohhh, BATSY!" The joker shrieked even louder, cackling hysterically until his breath was coming out in sharp pants and he was squeezing his gloved fingers around himself so hard it was punishing and his hips were jerking unsteadily. 

Bruce said nothing. He worked his fist around his cock, jerking his arm at a slight angle that edged the line between pain and pleasure, for each time his stomach curled with warmth at the Joker's voice. 

The next night they meet in an alleyway and the toxic gas is swirling on the ground in wreaths of dyed gloom, obscuring the shapes of the shadows and shafts of light from the street lamps that pass through it. 

The street light is fickle and blinks on and off, sending shadows skittering like children playing hide and seek, but the darkness is inexhaustible and like he has all his life, Batman takes refuge there. The Joker is already waiting as if they'd set the place beforehand.

Their meeting is imminent, like everything else between them. 

The Joker is all long limbs, flexible as a gymnast while Bruce is solid and sturdy. He holds the Joker's hips as he wraps his legs around his waist. The Joker's back is against the wall but he sets the speed with the rhythm of his thrusts and the sharp, insistent, fingernails that scrape against Batman's shoulders. The friction between their cocks makes Bruce hiss and grit his teeth, his breath coming out hot and uneven through his nose. He can smell the toxic gas, he can smell garbage of the alley. The Joker squirms and is never still for a second, splaying his fingers across the back of Batman's neck, digging the heels of his shoes against his lower back, tightening the grip his thighs have around his waist. He grins at him but every so often his face will falter and screw up in a pained grimace of lust. 

"I hate you." Batman grunts, forcing the body underneath him further into the wall, wrapping his fingers around the slender, pale neck. His hips move faster as he comes closer to release. "I hate you." 

"I know. I hate you too." the Joker breathes against his ear. "I hate you to the moon and back." 

 

 


End file.
